


we'll still have each other

by Umbrella_ella



Category: GLOW (TV 2017)
Genre: F/F, episode tags, these two are too damn cute guys
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-19
Updated: 2018-07-19
Packaged: 2019-06-12 22:18:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15349959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Umbrella_ella/pseuds/Umbrella_ella
Summary: Episode tags for the small Yolanda/Arthie moments, the missed moments, and all of the moments in between.First tag is for 2.03.Rating subject to change.





	we'll still have each other

**Author's Note:**

> The show was so good that I watched it in 48 hours. I fell in love with the background characters, as you do, and I'm just playing in the sandbox now.

Arthie's buzzed, the alcohol spinning the world in front of her into brilliant streaks of light and color and she leans into it, into this thrumming in her veins, because it's real, and this is the most real she's ever felt. The girls are giggling like mad, except when they're not, expect when Jenny's face is completely occupied by Camera Guy's lips and seriously, they should just--

The music thumps out a beat, familar and solid, and Arthie feels it in the soles of her sneakers, and it's all too much, the noise, the lights, the raucous laughter exploding around her in pinpricks of happiness as Tammé says something hilarious. 

Arthie feels too much, and not enough, and maybe she should go back to her room, slip under the covers and pretend to sleep until Yolanda slids into her own bed, drifting into the kind of sleep Arthie wishes she could get. 

She should, and almost does, but then fingers, soft and cool and beckoning, tug at her own, and so she follows the beat, launches herself up off of her perch on the cooler that Shelia had "borrowed" from Stacie. 

Yolanda's curls are sticking to the side of her neck, and the sheen of sweat across her skin is the only thing that betrays the heat of the Valley night air. 

Arthie grins, instead, and forgets about the sleeping and the way her heart beats a bit faster around Yolanda, and when she feels heat blistering across her cheeks, she tells herself that it's the alcohol. Yolanda doesn't let go of her hand, and neither does Arthie. 

They remain connected by this single point of contact, Yolanda's acrylic nails gentle on Arthie's palm, and Arthie's thin fingers clasped into hers, as though this might all slip away in a haze. 

She dances, then, hips loose and head swinging back and forth, as she keeps time-- not perfectly, but still-- with Yolanda. The curly-haired woman pulls her close then, so that they're within inches of each other. 

"Like this, Arthie," Yolanda says, and grips her hips, her hands controlling the tilt of Arthie's hips, branding her with a heat that spreads through to the tips of her toes. 

"Oh," she breathes, and it sounds stupid, and she's so aware of the others watching them, cheering and bobbing along, but Yolanda's the only one that hears. 

And so she leans into it, into this feeling that isn't just the alcohol, into Yolanda's palms, and this is so, so real.


End file.
